


A Midsummer Night's Kiss

by illyriantremors



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: AU, Acting, Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluff, Shakespeare, Theater - Freeform, acomaf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 20:34:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8223970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyriantremors/pseuds/illyriantremors
Summary: Feyre is beyond upset when she has to play opposite Rhysand, a rival actor in the theater biz she hates. Through weeks of rehearsals, Feyre finds herself distracted by Rhysand's annoying snark - and gorgeous lips. By the time opening night rolls around and their big on-stage kiss is set to happen, Feyre finds herself wondering if maybe she doesn't hate Rhys quite so much after all.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who may not have read A Midsummer Night’s Dream by the William Shakespeare, here’s the set-up you’ll need to know for this play: Feyre and Rhys are playing Titania and Oberon, the fairy queen and king. They’ve been fighting over a child the entire play and so Oberon decides to trick Titania into thinking herself in love with Bottom, a screwball mechanical character who’s head has been turned into that of a donkey. This fic will talk about the end result of that mayhem when Oberon sets everything right and he and Titania make up.
> 
> Requested on Tumblr via this prompt: "Modern au where Fey and Rhys are rival actors and they both auditioned for a play and got accepted, but now they have to perform a kiss scene in the play and Feyre is like I hate this dude but those lips though."

I hated him. He was such a prick and of course _he_ would be the one to get the part.

Why couldn’t it have been Tamlin? He at least was cute. I mean, Rhysand was a little cute too, but _only a little_ and this was Shakespeare! That deserved someone serious. Like Tamlin.

We’d acted together dozens of times and sure, the past few plays hadn’t felt quite right between us, probably because he’d burned me for some stuffy singer he’d met on Broadway who couldn’t carry a proper tune and over relied on jazzhands, but whatever. He would have made such a good Oberon with his long golden hair and green eyes.

Rhysand, on the other hand, was all wrong. He was darker in features, not at all light and ethereal the way a fairy should be. Though I couldn’t deny the mischievous snark was there. Small consolation, I mused as we strode out onto the stage for rehearsal.

We’d been going through the play for a little over a week now and each day was a horror working with him. _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_ was my favorite Shakespeare play and he was ruining it with his off-collar comments about how pretty I looked lying in bed with a donkey and intentionally messing up our scenes when the theater director wasn’t looking.

But damn it all if he didn’t look hot in all that fairy regalia.

We’d finally made it to our final scene of the play, the one where Oberon comes to wake Titania from her dreaming and change Bottom back to normal. Rhys had already messed the scene up once in between runs.

_My Oberon!_ I had called, pretending to wake from my vision and trying very hard not to smack that smug self-satisfied grin off his face, the one he always gave me whenever Titania had to _swoon_ for her fairy king. _What visions have I seen! Methought I was enamored of an ass._

The theater director called cut for some kind of technical issue over lighting, but Rhysand still stalked toward me and muttered so only I could hear, “Well I do have a pretty nice one, thank you, Feyre.”

He winked. I scowled. We reset. And did it all over again.

I was dreading the scene opening night. We were meant to kiss midway through it, but hadn’t practiced it in rehearsal at the director’s request. Something about him wanting it to feel “organic” and “natural”. Either way, I was thankful not to endure it just yet.

And sort of not. The thought of kissing that fool made my blood boil and I wanted to hit something each time. But we still ran the scenes as if the kiss was going to happen and each time Rhys got close to me, I would look at his lips and think about how soft they were and what they would feel like pressed against mine until my cheeks burned and Rhys would laugh at me.

“You know you want me,” he would sometimes say. Apparently, all I had to do was ask. _Ughhh_.

Opening night came and I was fine until that scene came up. I stood backstage a jittery mess waiting for Puck to finish up his mayhem with the four lovers when Rhysand appeared next to me and truly, he did look like some kind of king as Oberon even with the crown of flowers on his head. He was sort of… pretty.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

“Nothing,” I said too quickly and he smirked.

“Not nervous about our big kiss, are you? If you want to practice, I think I can spare a few minutes.”

“Ugh, you’re gross!” and I crossed my arms looking anywhere but right at him.

“Relax, you’ll do great.” And suddenly his usual flirtation was gone. “It’s just me.”

I looked at him and he shrugged as if to say _what’s there to really be afraid of?_ Then he cleared his throat and walked away and I wondered if maybe he was nervous too. He looked almost wounded to think my disgust was really that genuine a repulsion to him.

The lights dimmed to change the setting between scenes and I took my spot on the stage alongside the actor playing bottom. When the lights came back on, we ran our lines, the audience laughing at how absurd it looked to see a fairy queen in bed with a man with a donkey’s head, and then we were feigning sleep as Rhysand walked on the stage as King Oberon alongside Puck.

_Welcome, good Robin,_ Rhysand said to Puck and began his beautiful monologue that explained our fight that had kept us at odds for the majority of the play. Then finally, I felt him near me and when he spoke, it was as if from a dream.

_But first I will release the Fairy Queen._

His hand ran gingerly across my closed eyes with the herb meant to “wake me” and undo the spell.

_Be as thou wast wont to be;_  
See as thou wast wont to see.  
Dian’s bud o’er Cupid’s flower  
Hath such force and blesséd power.  
Now, my Titania, wake you, my sweet queen.

I opened my eyes and there crouched over me with such affection written on his face looking down at me as his beloved queen was Rhysand.

No. Oberon. _Oberon_ was looking down at me. Not Rhysand that insufferable prick with his insufferable lips…

_My Oberon! What visions have I seen!  
Methought I was enamored of an ass._

_There lies your love._

Rhysand - Oberon, all jokes about fine asses aside, pointed to Bottom next to me and I gasped in shock.

_How came these things to pass?  
Oh, how mine eyes do loathe his visage now!_

Puck was called to remove Bottom’s curse, which he promptly did, and then I was calling for music whilst Rhysand pulled me up to stand before him.

My body went completely rigid. This was it. The big moment. _The kiss._ And I was nowhere near ready for it. _  
_

All of my lines disappeared. I didn’t remember who Titania and Oberon were anymore. Fairies? Lovers? Shakespeare? The only thing I could focus on was Rhysand and his impending lips and how badly I wanted to kiss them when I had hated the sight of him so much. Goodness, I wanted to kiss him so much.

Rhys seemed to sense the shift in me because his arms swooped me into his embrace sooner than they should have and he ran a soothing touch on my back with his thumb, his palms pressing in a little to say _It’s okay. It’s just me, remember? And I am no one._ And I thought maybe I had it all wrong. Maybe Tamlin wasn’t right at all for the part. Maybe Rhys was. Maybe some Oberons were light and airy, and maybe others were wild and unsure.

_Sound, music!_ Rhysand said. _Come, my queen, take hands with me,  
And rock the ground whereon these sleepers be._

The stage filled with other fairies and loud music so the dance could begin. Rhysand offered me his hands back so that I could take them as the line called for and he could kiss me, but surprise flickered on his face as my hands went around his face instead and into his hair, pulling his lips down to mine. I felt him smile into the kiss and in that moment, we were the King & Queen and Rhysand & Feyre both; High Lord and Lady of the Theater.

His lips were soft and he smelled like the citrus of the oranges I’d seen him eating before pulled our costumes on earlier. It was a long and deep kiss. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been kissed like that, but I was certain I wanted more. Forgetting myself and what I was doing, my tongue slid across his lips and Rhys groaned quietly enough so only I could hear before moving back with pleasant surprise written on his face.

Without missing a beat, Rhysand delivered his final speech and I followed with mine, the lines thankfully returned to me. We danced with the other fairies before flitting off the stage.

Once we were out of sight, Rhysand turned to me. “Where did that come from?” I realized he still hadn’t dropped my hand from the dancing.

“I…” I scoffed as if it were nothing. “It was acting. That’s all. I’m a good actress.” I dropped his hand and went to my dressing mirror, pulling flowers and pins from my hair.

“You know you liked it,” he said, staring at me in the mirror again with that smug smile. This time I didn’t wish so much to wipe it off him and I smiled smugly a little bit myself.

He pulled a flier out of his pocket and smoothed it out on the table for me to look at. “They’re doing _Much Ado_ in the spring. What do you say? With my charming good looks and your terrible temper, I think we’d make a pretty good Benedict and Beatrice.”

“Ugh, that sounds,” I said with as much menace as I could throw into the words before I spun around and wrapped my arms back around his neck. This time he didn’t look so surprised. “Absolutely wonderful,” I finished and Rhys chuckled.

“Leave the flowers in your hair.”

“Why?”

“Because you make a beautiful fairy queen.”

No bravado. No mocking. Just Rhysand.

He pulled my hands from around his neck and kissed each one before gliding off to his own table with a wink.

Cocky prick.

xx


End file.
